


Stay (Faraway, So Close)

by mariposaroja



Category: Motorcycling RPF
Genre: Fluff, Humour, M/M, Some angst, i haven't got a clue what this is really lol, oblivious Dani and Marc, they're not nearly half as good as they think they are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 07:39:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14015466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariposaroja/pseuds/mariposaroja
Summary: Marc goes back to his room after having a fight with Dani and is very,veryconfused.





	Stay (Faraway, So Close)

Biting down on the inside of his cheek to keep from losing his cool completely, Marc slaps his hand against the wall, trying his hardest to keep his face from betraying how much that hurts. _Sorry neighbours…_

“Oh yeah,” Dani scoffs, “Mature.”

“You seem perfectly happy to use my age against me when it suits you.”

He can’t help but roll his eyes at that, which only seems to add fuel to the younger man’s fire. _You’re twenty five, not fucking sixteen._ “You’re the one with the age complex, not me. I just meant that you’re acting like a five year old.”

“Oh, is that _all_? That’s fine so.”

_I cannot deal with this right now._ “I don’t understand why you can’t see how ridiculous you’re being. There wasn’t even a fucking problem until you went and made one.”

“It was a problem for me! Which _you_ don’t seem to get.” His boyfriend opens his mouth to speak, but Marc is so completely done right now that he just doesn’t want to hear it. It’s not as if they seem to be getting anywhere anyway. “You know what? I’m just going to go. I’m tired and all I want to do right now is go to sleep so I suppose I’ll see you at breakfast in the morning.” It isn’t a question, nor is it an indication that things will have blown over by then. It just… is what it is.

Unsurprisingly, Dani doesn’t object to that, merely frowning, arms still crossed, as he watches Marc grab a couple of bits from his suitcase. He knows that he should, that he should just give in and tell the younger man to just stay and they can go to sleep but it’s all such a joke that he can’t even believe it. And even if he did, it doesn’t seem like Marc would even agree, his determination once his mind is made up something he loves _and_ hates about him. The moment the door clicks shut, Dani knows that any words would have been futile.

He didn’t even look back.

*

Trudging down the hallway, trying to be considerate of those around him who were asleep but still pissed beyond belief, Marc fishes the key to his own room, that hasn’t been used at all since they checked in two days before, from his wallet. In fact, he actually has to double check which number is actually his, not wanting to have to explain why exactly he couldn’t locate his own room to either hotel staff _or_ the team.

He had known it was on the same floor as Dani’s, but is very relieved to find they couldn’t be farther away for each other, taking several turns and minutes until Marc finally finds himself standing outside the door. Sighing in relief, he opens it, letting the heavy fire door slowly swing shut behind him as he feels along the wall for the lights. “Aha…” The room illuminates before him, but Marc’s first response is one of extreme confusion…

“What the _fuck_.”

There’s one very obvious problem with his accommodation: the actual bed, arguably _the_ most important part, could barely be seen, never mind accessed, for all the luggage that was piled up around the place. All with the HRC logo emblazoned on the front of them…

It must be the wrong room, he decides. Alberto must have passed him the wrong key when they’d reached the hotel, it had been quite late after all, meaning that instead of getting the key to his own room he instead got the designated luggage room… (He didn’t even know the team had one of those?) It’s the only possible explanation, right? But it leaves him in a _terribly_ uncomfortable situation: he either has to go Alberto and try to explain why he has only _now-_ after two days- realised that he’d been given the wrong key _or_ go back to Dani’s room after making his dramatic exit, and he isn’t exactly sure which of those would be more humiliating.

_Well, fuck._ There is a third option, he supposes, but that would include collecting _all_ the luggage and attempting to stack it in such a way that he might actually be able to get into bed, without sleeping with a team-issue suitcase across the pillow from him instead of his team mate. Ultimately, that seems to be the best option and he gets to work, only to realise _very_ quickly that there is more fucking bags than he knows what to do with there and he does not need to be dealing with this when he is tired, cranky, hungry and has to be up at fucking all hours of the morning.

Huffing, Marc kicks one of the cases, grimacing when it falls over and takes around six others with it. How much luggage could one fucking MotoGP team have? And who booked an entire room for just cases? Why couldn’t they just keep them in their own fucking rooms like any normal person? And why hadn’t he and Dani been informed of this? Absurd, utterly _absurd_.

There was nothing he could do but march his ass back out the door and back down the hall until he reached the room that he, thankfully remembered. Feeling only a bit guilty that it was close to twelve at night, Marc knocks briskly on the door, rolling back and forward on his feet as he waits (too long) for someone to open it. When it finally swings open, he sees Santi standing there, bleary eyed and looking more irritated than Marc has ever seen him.

“Marc? Do you know what time it is?”

_Oops_. “Yes,” he makes an ‘eek’ face, “but I have a problem that kinda needs solving or else I’ll be sleeping on the couch in the lobby…”

“What’s going on?” Jordi’s face appears over his crew chief’s shoulder, the two always designated roommates on trips outside of Europe.

“I think I was given the wrong room,” holding up the key, he frowns, “it’s full to the brim with luggage and I can’t even make it to the bed.”

The other two men stop dead momentarily, before slowly turning to look at each other, both incredulous. _Surely not…_

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am! You can come see for yourself if you don’t believe me!” _Why are we doing this in the corridor??_

“Marc…” Jordi hesitates, corner of his mouth twitching as he cocks his head, “are you telling me than you never realised that your room has been the designated luggage-holding area for past two years?”

_What the actual fuck._ “No,” shrieking, Marc bites his lip when he realises just how loud that was, “No, I did _not_ realise! _Obviously_ not, or I wouldn’t be standing here right now!” _Wait-_ “Oh my god, so the whole team knows that I haven’t slept in my hotel room for the past two years??”

Santi, at this stage, is completely lost to laughter, leaning on the wall for support as he struggles for breath. “We thought you knew and you were okay with it! At first no one could figure out where you went but then, well, we started putting two and two together and your room became the luggage room so that the team wasn’t clearly booking a room that was consistently empty.”

“What’s wrong, did you and Dani fight? I hope it wasn’t bad, if this is the first time in two years you’ve had to use your own room…”

_Shut up, Santi. I preferred you when you were laughing._ Folding his arms across his chest, Marc grimaced, trying to hide his absolute mortification. “I needed some space, okay? But it looks like I can’t have it now because _my_ room looks like El Prat’s fucking lost and found.”

“Marc, just go back to Dani. If in the morning you still want some space then I will tell everyone to reclaim their baggage but it’s nearly midnight and we all have to be up early in the morning.”

_Pff._ “Who exactly knows about this?”

“It’s pretty common knowledge within the team, I’m sorry to tell you.”

Stomach dropping, Marc groans, wearily scrubbing his face with his hand. So the whole team knows about what he thought was his illicit affair with its other rider, great. Two years of fucking watching everything he says and does, every way he so much as looks at Dani, and the whole lot of them knew anyway. “Alberto doesn’t know, does he?”

Two rooms down, a door swings open, the team principal in question’s head popping out, not looking at all pleased. “Alberto knows. And if you don’t want Alberto to give Cal your bike for keeping the entire hotel awake then I suggest you hurry back to your boyfriend…” With that, the door slams shut- well, as much as a fire door can slam anyway…

“You heard the man,” Santi salutes him, pulling his colleague back inside the room so he could maybe- just maybe- get some fucking sleep, willing to leave any potential Marquez stroppiness for the morning.

Blinking, Marc stares at the door that has been effectively shut in his face, cheeks still flaming red from the exchange. So, apparently the world and his mother knows about his gay relationship with his teammate. Cool. Great. No worries, at all…

Well, barring some kind of odd protest, he decides he can’t exactly stay outside his mechanics’ room all night (and is a little bit afraid that Alberto will come out and find him still there). It takes a moment’s contemplation but, ultimately, Marc knows that he has no other choice to walk back down the corridor to his boyfriend’s room, his tail firmly between his legs. It’s mortifying, and his pride almost makes him turn back for the suitcase-laden room instead, but he knows that, if he did, he would only be proving Dani right.

Funnily enough, the thought that his team mate might not let him back in hadn’t occurred to him until he’s standing in front of the door, fist balled and poised to knock. But he’s tired, and he knows that there is little time for recovery of sleep over the course of a race weekend, and so, Marc decides, he would be willing to beg, if worst came to worst.

Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.

The better part of a minute passes after he raps his knuckles against the wood and Marc begins to worry that he might not even get a chance to beg, beginning to mentally prepare himself for sleeping on the carpet in the hall. Sighing, he places both his palms flat against the door, forehead following suit. He couldn’t have just _communicated_ , could he? Then none of this would have happened; he’d be tucked up in bed with Dani, right where he should be. Always.

His lamenting is interrupted by the previously solid surface giving way, and he would have taken a nose onto the floor if it weren’t for a pair of unsuspecting hands that clumsily grab hold of him in the nick of time. “What the- _Marc?_ ”

“Hi…” Cheeks burning, he rights himself again, leaning on the jam for support. “Can I come in?”

“Changed you mind, have you?”

“It’s a very long story.”

“You’ve been gone like fifteen minutes max, how long could it be?”

True. Nevertheless, Marc shakes his head. “I’ll explain in the morning. I’m sorry for acting childishly, may I please come back inside so that I don’t have to sleep out in the hall and answer some very awkward questions in the morning?”

Part of him wants to push further, but Dani honestly doesn’t have the energy and so he merely nods instead, turning back towards the bed and allowing the younger man to follow behind him. Without another word, he climbs back under the sheets, switching off the lamp as Marc begins to quickly shed his clothes. He closes his eyes, but is painfully aware of his boyfriend as he climbs into the other side of the bed, instinctively wrapping an arm around Dani’s front and pulling him against his chest. Fight or no, it feels right, and he knows that he wouldn’t have gotten much sleep without him, anyway.

“We’ve been doing all this fighting,” the reigning world champion mumbles against the nape of his neck, “and they’ve known all along. All of them.”

_Wait…_ “WHAT?!”

“It’s okay. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

“You can’t just drop that on me and not expect me to want to discuss it.”

“We’ll discuss it, tomorrow. Nothing is going to change now, let’s get some sleep. I… I love you; you know that, don’t you?” _Almost all my life._

His desire to question that one isn’t quelled, but Dani relents nevertheless, knowing that he’s not going to get anywhere. Not tonight at least. “I know. I love you, too.”

The rest can wait.


End file.
